


Ripples in the Water

by rabid_plotbunny



Series: Stories from the WIP file [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: A little Dark?, Gen, Genesis POV, Genesis whump, Kidnapping, Possibly Triggering, Time Travel Fix-It, naked Genesis because that should have its own tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabid_plotbunny/pseuds/rabid_plotbunny
Summary: All Genesis Rhapsodos, new SOLDIER Third Class, wanted was a shower in the little apartment he shared with Angeal. He didn't expect to get jumped.
Series: Stories from the WIP file [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739023
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	Ripples in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Another from the WIP file. 
> 
> This one happened because I like time-travel fic and whump and thought Gen needed to star in at least one.... Considering what he's got to work with though, he runs into a bit of a speed-bump along the way...
> 
> Hope you like it. ❤

He didn't really know how he knew that he was no longer alone. The door made no sound. There was no sound of footsteps betraying another's presence. There wasn't even much of a disturbance in the warm steam that filled the room. He cast an involuntary look toward the small room on the other side of the curtain, the hot drops from the shower hissing from the shower head, pattering against the tile floor, splattering against his bare skin.

"Hello?" he called out. "Angeal? Is that you? You're back early."

There was no reply, no sound beyond himself and the shower, no visible movement.

He waited a moment longer, senses straining, then shrugged and turned back to his shower. He must have been mistaken. The enhancements must still be playing tricks on him, though he'd thought that he had gotten through that part. If there _was_ someone or something there, he would have heard _something_.

He was proven wrong mere moments later as the curtain was jerked roughly aside, then a leather-clad arm had him by the throat and jaw, turning his face into the oncoming deluge of hot water and effectively blinding him. His hands flew to his throat, to that constricting arm, and tried to pry it free even as the water poured down his face, into his eyes, his nose, his mouth. That arm might as well have been made of stone for all it gave under his frantic prying. He felt a body pressed close against him and tried to butt his head back but that damned hand held it still, kept it in the water. Involuntarily he gasped for air but it was only more water that flooded his opened mouth, not air, and he choked.

He needed air!

Both hands still locked to that unmoving limb, he let it hold his weight as he lifted both feet and kicked out at the wall before him, pushing back against the body holding him with all the desperate strength in his legs. Tile broke beneath his feet, shards tinkling to the shower floor.

He managed to stagger his assailant slightly, enough that he was able to grab half a breath before the other man recovered and he was in the water once more. The arm at his throat tightened even more, cutting off his air in its own right and threatening to break his jaw.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, and whoever the sick bastard who was doing this to him was far stronger that his own new-Third self. For the first time in a long time, he was afraid. What did they want? Why were they doing this? Why him?

He choked, gagged, gasped for nonexistant air. To his humiliation, as if being assaulted in his own shower in his own bathroom wasn't bad enough, he could feel his body stiffening even as black started closing in on his vision. His legs went weak and he sagged helplessly against his assailant, being held up now only by the stranger's grip on his throat. His hands fell limply to his sides and he could feel consciousness leaving him.

There was a quiet rustle, then the squeak of the tap as the shower was turned off. He was slowly lowered to the tile floor, unable to move, still unable to get any air past that damned arm, unable to save himself from whatever was about to happen.

Perhaps losing consciousness would be for the best. At least he wouldn't be saddled with the memory of whatever was about to happen. Even as his cheek hit barely-warmed tile, awareness fleeing rapidly, he heard an oddly-familiar voice speak quietly near his ear.

" _The wind sails over the water's surface quietly, but surely_ ," it said. "I always liked that line. Fear not, for I am the wind that will blow over you, through you, and wash clean your imperfection."

A hand brushed over his soaked locks, almost gently. "I am truly sorry that we met like this, but this was the best opportunity for success I was going to get and you have to understand that I simply had to take it for both our sakes. I know what you must be thinking but rest assured you need not fear. I will not harm you. Rather the opposite, actually."

Finally —finally!— that damned limb released him and he coughed, gagged, and gulped in huge heaving gasps of air.

"Who-?!" he managed between coughs.

"I told you already. I am the wind before the healing rain. I am the wind that fans the cleansing flame."

There was a quick sting in his skin, gone almost as soon as it was noticed. A familiar heavy lassitude filled him, rendering muscle limp and inviting the unconsciousness that had slowly been receding with the influx of air. He knew that feeling intimately. It was exactly the same as that when Hollander felt the need to put him under for some test or other.

The last thing he heard as consciousness fled entirely did absolutely nothing to put him at ease.

"I am the arrow that has left the bow of the Goddess. I am the soothing wind, the cleansing flame. I will save you and in doing so I will become the Hero and save us both."

Whoever this guy was, he was clearly insane.

Darkness.

  
But not for long.

All too soon he regained consciousness and wished he hadn't.

He could hear the muted roar of an engine, feel the bouncing and rocking of the surface beneath him. He could, however, not actually see where he was due to the thick cloth wrapped securely about his eyes. He could feel the familiar feel of his Third-Class uniform, with boots but sans armor. A wad of fabric filled his mouth, kept in place with another strip of cloth. His wrists were bound to opposite elbow behind him and his ankles were tied together.

He was going nowhere.

Or at least, he was going nowhere under his own power. How had his attacker managed to get him out of his apartment and all the way out of the Shinra tower without being stopped?!

His insane captor —for what else could he be after the speech he barely recalled?— had not hurt him while he was out, as far as he could tell. There was no pain anywhere, anyways. Except for his poor abused throat. He hadn't been... well... while unconscious, but that was faint consolation.

Maybe the insane pervert just wanted to get him somewhere more isolated or convenient before indulging.

He had to get away somehow.

He strained against the ties that bound him and got absolutely nowhere. Shit.

  
The cessation of noise and movement woke him. He didn't know how he had managed to fall asleep in that situation but it was good. Any residual soreness from his attack —and subsequent kidnapping— had disappeared. His throat was good as new, and it was only as he flexed his jaw instinctively that he realized that the gag had been removed at some point. He didn't know if that was good or bad. Good on one hand as it no longer bound his mouth, silencing him, making him drool helplessly even as it caused a growing ache in his jaw. Bad in that whoever had him had no care anymore for any noise he might make.

He heard a car door open, then a hand yanked his feet in that direction by the rope around his ankles. Another quick tug and the ropes fell away.

He didn't waste a moment. The instant he felt that freedom he kicked out with all the strength in Third-Class-enhanced muscle.

His assailant proved himself to be at _least_ equally enhanced, stopping his effort cold with no obvious effort. A Second, maybe?

He tried to think who it could be, tried to think if he had noticed any Seconds paying him any undue attention and came up blank. He could barely even remember any of the Thirds whose ranks he'd so recently joined, blurred as the memories were by the whirlwind of mako and mind-numbing drills.

He kicked again, with the same unnerving lack of result. "Who are you? Where are you taking me? What do you _want?!_ "

Was that an exasperated _sigh?_ What a bastard. He had every right to demand answers!

"I told you. I am the cleansing wind," the voice said softly in reply.

That voice. He felt like he should know it. It was so familiar —why couldn't he place it?

"As for where, you will see. Soon. We are nearly there. And finally, as for why—"

The hands that restrained his kicking legs tightened slightly, the only warning he got before they jerked harshly, pulling him abruptly closer.

He was suddenly, horribly, aware of his helplessness as he found himself lying there, bound, the stranger pressing against him with anatomical correctness between his splayed legs. His breath froze in his throat, his heartbeat suddenly pulsing in his ears.

"It is _not_ for _this_ ," the familiar-yet-not voice told him with a suggestive thrust of narrow hips.

As soon as it had happened, it was over. The stranger backed away, allowing his legs to snap together. Then a gloved hand had him by one arm and was pulling him up and out of the car.

Heart racing, adrenaline surging through him in icy-hot waves, it took a moment for him to realize that he was up and walking, being pulled along by one arm and not being held down and violated. Once the sound of his pulse faded from his ears, he could even swear that he heard wind rustling leaves and grasses. It was a familiar sound to the former country boy and the scents it brought to him, enhanced by the new sharpness of his senses, woke a feeling of almost-homesickness in him. Strange, he never thought he would feel that since he left for Midgar. He could almost even smell apple blossoms on the wind, though the season was all wrong for anywhere but home.

Wait.

He breathed deep.

Mako-blue eyes widened behind the cloth covering them.

That _was_ the soft scent of Banora White apple blossoms. He was home. Or near enough to smell it, anyway. How in the world?! Banora was an entire continent and two good ferry rides from Midgar! He couldn't have slept that long!

"What... How... this is... Why are we in Banora?" A possible explanation came to mind, vexing though it was. "Father will not give you anything for me if it's ransom you're after." Oh. Maybe telling his kidnapper that wasn't the brightest thing he could have done.

"I don't want money," came the bland response. "I told you. I am not going to harm you. I am going to help you."

"I didn't _need_ any help until you kidnapped me!"

"You did, you just didn't know it yet. But I will help you. I will burn out the imperfection with the aid of the Goddess and—"

"Oh hell. You're some kind of religious nutjob. What do you mean burn out imperfection? Are you talking about the mako? A bit hypocritical, aren't you? I can tell you're enhanced too!"

The air stilled around them with abrupt suddenness. The thudding of their boots and the smell of stone reminded him of the caves he used to play in. In fact—

He didn't know what to think as he was led with unhesitating confidence down tunnels his feet knew intimately. At least he would know which way to run once he got away. Which he _was_ going to do, religious nutjob or no.

But who was this stranger that they were so familiar with the long-abandoned tunnels he had spent so many hours exploring during his youth? They were going too quickly for aimless wandering, or even for following any kind of map of sign, and were definitely heading in a predetermined direction. In fact, if he was tracking their direction correctly, they would soon be coming up on his favorite part of the cave system, the one with the statue of the Goddess.

A sudden feeling of vastness around them after the close tightness of the tunnels proved his sense of direction was accurate even despite the blindfold over his eyes. When they finally came to a stop, he was pretty sure they would be standing right in front of the statue.

The hand that had been pulling him along by the arm disappeared, followed soon after by a tugging at the knot of the blindfold.

A wave of concern and fear rolled through him. Why was the blindfold coming off now, after all the stranger's efforts to remain completely unknown? Sneaking up behind him in the shower, then the blindfold ever since. The implication that it didn't matter anymore if he could identify his assailant didn't bode well for the odds of walking away from this experience.

Had the insane pervert brought him all the way here only to sacrifice him to the Goddess embodied by the statue?

Then the fabric was sliding away from his face and his eyes opened to meet mako-blues.

  
"What the actual fucking hell is this bullshit?" he said before he even realized he'd spoken. He winced internally as what he had said registered. His vocabulary had certainly expanded since arriving in Midgar and joining Shinra as a cadet, but he usually tried to keep it under control. Damn it for having slipped out, betraying his carefully-learned eloquence in his shock.

His kidnapper frowned at him, lips pursed in disapproval. "Language," he rebuked. One gloved hand reached out for his face.

He backed away, instinctively tugging at the ropes that still bound wrist to opposite elbow behind him. Still no luck; the bonds held fast. "Who are you? What... Why do you...?"

The cavern they were in was, as always, lit by some unknown source that seemed to emanate from everywhere, casting no shadows. Its soft light showed them both clearly. The stranger had maybe a couple of inches of height on him. His boots were scuffed and worn, his coat many-times mended with mismatched leather. The face was thinner than his own, careworn and lightly lined. Familiar mako-blue eyes watched from beneath and equally-familiar mop of auburn hair, touched with grey though it was.

His —older?— double actually had the gall to give an almost exasperated sigh. "I've told you many times already. I am—"

"Don't give me that 'I am the wind' B.S. I want a name. I want real answers."

"Who do you think I am?"

"I don't... you look... are you a cousin?"

An amused huff was his reply to that query. "No. I am who you would be if I didn't come back to intervene like this."

"You... are me?"

"Not if things go well."

Yep. _Definitely_ insane.

  
"So what is that supposed to mean? Why are we here?"

"This is where I was healed, after everything went wrong. This is where the Goddess cleansed the imperfections that were killing me from my DNA. If we can get her to do that for you before... everything..."

"You keep saying 'everything'. What went wrong? What imperfections? I'm perfectly healthy. Hollander never said anything about any—"

"Hollander is a fourth-rate scientist-wannabe who shouldn't be allowed to be near a test tube. Don't make the same mistake I did by trusting that hack."

Genesis was quiet for a moment, then asked quietly: "So how did you get the Goddess to... cleanse you?"

His older doppelganger grimaced. "That's the thing. _Infinite in mystery is the Gift of the Goddess._ I wasn't exactly terribly lucid or sane by then...."

"You don't actually know, do you?"

"Not a clue."

"Shit."

"Language."


End file.
